


Falling Like the Stars

by TakaneNoHana



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Actor Oikawa Tooru, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Celebrity Life, Crack, Enemies to Lovers, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, HQ Easter Eggs, Japan National Team Captain Iwaizumi Hajime, M/M, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Olympics, POV switch, Rating will change, Romance, Sexual Tension, We Got Married Reality Show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakaneNoHana/pseuds/TakaneNoHana
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, rising star of the national volleyball team, receives an offer for a photoshoot with the famous actor Oikawa Tooru. It takes both of them just a few minutes to realize they absolutely can’t stand each other, and after a day full of different kinds of tension, they pray to never meet again.A few years later though, they unknowingly get paired up as the first same-sex couple in a variety show in which they have to get married and live together for at least 3 months.Will they be able to pull this off without killing each other on national television?
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, One-Sided Ushijima Wakatoshi/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 43
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

Aoyama (Tokyo), August 2021

  
  
  


Oikawa Tooru was sprawled in a prone position on his comfortable u-shaped, creamy sectional sofa in his luxurious apartment in Aoyama, Tokyo. His right arm hanging from the couch and his left cheek pressed on the soft velvet fabric, eyes unfocused towards the huge TV screen. On the small glass table in front of him were displayed different kinds of liquors—most of them empty by now—that during that rainy, summer evening were nothing but his only comfort. 

He was supposed to be celebrating his “best male lead” and “best drama” awards, but Ushijima—his long-time rival—had stolen them from him. Again.

Yes, stolen.

He had worked so hard and his performance in his latest seasonal drama had been simply outstanding. And yet apparently, it wasn’t enough. 

Thankfully he was a talented actor, because when the lights he was sure were going to shine upon him had instead stopped on his rival, he had managed the brightest smile he could—which was dazzling no matter what—and clapped his hands in the best, fake congratulatory applause ever. He even had to get up so that Ushijima could make his way outside the row in which they were sitting, shake his hand and congratulate him. _Twice._

 _“Nation’s boyfriend Oikawa Tooru’s commendable sportsmanship”_ : that’s how the media had described it. And Tooru was sure he deserved an award for at least _that_ impromptu performance, because at that moment he had wanted nothing more than to grab Ushijima’s hair and make him permanently bald.

The ratings all through the airing period of the drama had been excellent, breaking new records for the channel airing it and even earning the whole cast a relaxing, exotic vacation. And yet Ushijima had managed to take away everything from him, as always.

And what’s worse, was that after the ceremony Ushijima had managed to piss him off even more: he had—unfortunately—come face to face with him in the hallway that led to the dressing rooms before he could even try to sneak out of the venue and finally let out the tears of frustration he had been holding for hours now. 

────────

  
  


“Oikawa.” the monotonous voice had called from behind, and Tooru had stopped dead on his feet cursing himself, the world and, of course, Ushijima Wakatoshi. He clenched his fists, instinctively rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, then he turned around to face the other man. 

“Ushiwaka-chan.” He replied, knowing very well that Ushijima hated to be called like that, but set on pissing him off because it was only fair. Ushijima’s face predictably scrunched in distaste.

“How many times—”

“What do you want from me, Ushiwaka? I’m in a hurry and I have no time to entertain you.” He said coldly.

“You are stunning tonight.” The other had blurted out, shamelessly checking him out from head to toe. 

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Tooru said, making a dismissive gesture with his hand, fervently hoping that his effortless narcissism was enough to discourage any sort of conversation the other had wanted to engage with him. 

“I wanted to thank you for your congratulations and ask you if you wanted to come to celebrate with me.”

Oikawa was left dumbfounded at the audacity of the person in front of him. He was literally the last person on earth he wanted to see, especially at that moment. 

“If it’s a joke it’s not funny, Ushiwaka-chan.” He replied gritting his teeth. 

“But earlier—”

“I just did what I was supposed to do in front of countless cameras, don’t kid yourself.” He replied, and Ushijima’s face hardened at the unexpected, cold rejection. 

“Then what about the kiss at the event last month? You’ve never returned my calls nor my messages.” His tone was straight up accusatory and Oikawa’s eyes impossibly widened at that. It was something he had regretted every single day since it happened, cursing the alcohol and swearing he wasn’t going to drink _ever_ again; something he had tried his best to delete from his memories in the hope the other had been as intoxicated as Tooru was, that he wouldn’t remember. 

“For god’s sake, Ushiwaka. I was drunk! You could have been anyone at that moment. It meant absolutely nothing to me. The fact that I’ve ignored all your calls and messages should have been a great hint!” He was exasperated and he wanted nothing more than going home, taking the tight suit off and drowning his sorrows in the alcohol. Yes, because that night he _really_ needed to drink, so his promise to not ever drink anymore was—not so regretfully and unexpectedly—off in the blink of an eye. 

And where the hell was Makki when he needed him?

Ushijima seemed somehow shocked at his answer, and Tooru genuinely wondered how the other hadn’t seen it coming. He had spent the past 5 years not even bothering to conceal his disdain towards him.

“You made a mistake, Oikawa.” He said, getting close to him. “You should have come to Shiratorizawa Ent. Then _maybe_ those awards now would be in your hands.” His voice was suddenly cold, resonating in the empty hallway and in Tooru’s head. Uncaring about the height difference, he stood tall in front of him. But the other had just said one of the things that triggered him the most, causing his well-crafted mask to crack. “And because of your worthless pride, you are pretending that there’s nothing between the two of us. We would be so powerful together, both in life and on screen.” Ushijima’s hand was getting close to his face, and Tooru slapped it away before it could even make contact. Then he scoffed and suavely passed his hand through his hair in a haughty way.

“I don’t know which sappy drama plot you have been shooting in your mind, but I’m sorry to break it to you: there’s absolutely nothing between us, Ushijima. And I’m absolutely happy with my agency choice. Sit tight, because soon I’ll overtake you and those awards will be in their rightful place. So never forget this _worthless pride_ of mine!” He had thundered before turning around to stalk away, hastily loosening his tie and leaving the other frozen in his place behind him.

  
  


────────

  
  
  


Back to mindlessly channel-hopping in the comfort of his home, he noticed his phone lighting up and he scoffed as he saw the caller: it was from Hanamaki Takahiro, his best friend and manager. He swiped right on his phone and lazily placed it on his right ear.

“Yo Tooru. Where are you?” The voice innocently asked as Tooru picked up.

“Home.” The actor replied in what he thought was a cold voice. 

“Are you drunk?” Hanamaki asked, knowing his friend far too well. 

“Not as much as I wished, at least for now. And Makki, you’re the worst manager ever. How could you leave me like that?” He scowled.

The other chuckled on the phone. 

“You know you love me! I had a—ehm—previous arrangement.”

“You left me to go on a date??” The actor was speechless but not that surprised. 

“Mmm, I wouldn’t exactly call it a date. It was more of a… mutually beneficial encounter!” The smugness in his voice was unmistakable. 

“Ew, I’ve never asked you the details. And thanks to your horniness I was stuck with Ushiwaka, who had the guts to ask me out and piss me off for a change. As if the evening couldn’t be worse.”

Hanamaki started laughing loudly at that, and Oikawa rolled his eyes. 

“Wow, and you’re also the worst friend ever apparently. Fuck you, Makki. I’m hanging up.” And so he sulkily did, before he could hear any replies. 

He propped himself up on his left elbow and poured himself another glass of vodka from his stash, drinking it in one go. He just wanted to numb himself from the constant pain in his chest and the self-loathing thoughts that were flooding his mind, and the burning sensation of the alcohol flowing down his throat was the best relief he could ask for.

His fingers froze on the black TV remote, as on the screen appeared a beautiful volleyball court that he missed like the air he breathed. He looked at it longingly, mindlessly extending his hand towards the tv as if to touch it and maybe teleport himself inside of it. 

The Olympics. Tokyo 2021.

Before he even knew what acting meant, _that_ had been his dream. 

He felt like crying, but he realized that he had no tears to shed anymore; just a bottomless void that, until that moment, nothing had been able to fill. And he didn’t think anything was ever going to fill it.

After the surgery 8 years earlier and from the moment the doctor had told him it was unlikely for him to resume playing at an agonistic level, he had avoided any contact with the sport, completely and suddenly cutting it out of his life. It had been the first time his dreams had shattered in front of his own eyes in such an unforgiving way, leaving him like nothing more than an empty shell.

That had also been the last time he had cried.

He would give anything to be there and fill his lungs with the scent of the court, the sound of hundreds of people holding their breaths as he’s about to make his run-ups to jump for what once people called his _monster-serve_ and the consequent cheerings once the ball was powerfully and accurately slammed on the other side of the court. A little voice in the back of his head was thankful for his current alcohol intoxication, because he knew and hoped that tomorrow he won’t remember anything about this dangerous stream of consciousness.

He looked at the left high corner of the screen, searching for some info about the match and he learned it was the semi-final: Japan vs Argentina. They were 2-2 with Argentina apparently leading the 5th set 5-3. He couldn’t hurt himself more than he already was that day, so he decided to ignore the throb in his chest and keep watching, just for a little bit. 

He almost dropped his expensive crystal glass when the camera focused on the person he probably loathed more than Ushijima himself: Iwaizumi Hajime.

Infuriating, sweaty, arms-sculpted-by-god-himself, and apparently _captain_ Iwaizumi Hajime. 

And once again, he—conveniently—blamed the alcohol for the comments his mind made about the insufferable volleyball player being “sweaty with arms sculpted by god himself” because nope, he didn’t actually think that. And he would never say all those things out loud, not even under torture.

He sure as hell had no idea Iwaizumi was the captain of the national team until that very moment, and if he had previously thought his day couldn’t be worse, he had been (again) promptly proved wrong. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and poured himself another glass of vodka.

Suddenly someone rang the bell, making him jump on the couch in fright and spill almost the whole content of his drink over his expensive, limited edition, alien shirt. He cursed for the nth time that evening and looked towards the ceiling as if to ask god why he hated him so much. 

The doorbell rang again, so he adjusted his specs and clumsily got off the couch, almost stumbling on his own feet. It was as if it took him an hour to reach the door, and the person outside had started to knock way too insistently and loudly for his ears. 

“What the fuck, I’m coming!” Tooru shouted in annoyance, words slightly slurred. 

He looked through the peephole and he was greeted by the sight of a middle finger, with a flash of pink hair in the background. He snorted and opened the door: his best friend was in front of him with a mischievous grin and two bags held up. 

“I come in peace and I bring fried chicken and beer!” He announced, smiling.

Tooru looked at him suspiciously, but he begrudgingly stepped aside to let him come inside the house without uttering a word. 

“Wow, you’re a mess!” Hanamaki said. 

“No shit, Sherlock.” 

His friend stopped in front of the couch, taking in the sight of at least three empty bottles of beer and an almost-empty vodka bottle. But the moment his mouth dropped open was when he noticed that his best friend was watching a volleyball match. His eyes went back and forth from the screen to Oikawa, comically widened in shock and blinking non-stop as if he was hallucinating. 

“Y-You!”

“Makki, it just appeared while I was channel-hopping.” Oikawa slurred and rolled his eyes.

“And you didn’t change it.” Hanamaki arched a brow, tone inquisitive.

“It literally happened as you rang the bell, I had no time to change it.” He scoffed, so drunkenly annoyed at the arched brow on his friend’s face that he reached for it with the intention to literally rip it off his face, but Hanamaki promptly stopped his hand before a painful catastrophe could ensue.

“So you definitely weren’t watching the semi-finals of the volleyball tournament in which a certain smoky hot captain Iwaizumi Hajime is playing.” He smirked, knowingly. 

“Wha—you knew he was the captain??” Tooru asked in shock, realizing a second too late that he had fallen in his friend’s trap.

“Oh. This reaction tells me that you’ve been watching way looonger than you wanted to admit. Also, it’s amusing how you didn’t deny the _smoky hot_ part.” 

“I- I didn’t even catch the words.” Oikawa spluttered. “In case you didn’t notice I’m very much drunk right now.” 

“Still not denying it ~ ”

“I hate you. And he’s not _hot_ at all. He’s only lucky that god gave him those beefy, juicy— WHAT THE HELL, MAKKI! Are you recording this?” He launched himself at his friend, trying to snatch his phone but lamely landing with his face on the couch, bumping his glasses and his nose on it in the process.

“Aaah, if only your fans could see you right now! I like drunk, honest Oikawa Tooru the best.” Hanamaki laughed.

“You suck!” A muffled whine replied. But Tooru didn’t move from his spot, and he wished a hole would open under him to swallow him whole. 

Hanamaki looked at him pitifully, putting his phone aside and patting his friend’s back soothingly.

“Honestly, it’s a shame you didn’t tap that when you had the chance. I’m still convinced that you would have had amazing chemistry in bed.” He told him, and Oikawa finally turned his head abruptly just to shoot him a glare. 

“You do realize that you seem like an angry kitten right now, right? Not scary at all.” Makki chuckled, and his eyes were on the screen again as Iwaizumi scored the match point with a powerful spike, and the whole team ran to hug him. “Wow, that was amazing!” 

“Hmph.” Tooru scoffed.

“You know it was, but you’re too busy to pretend you hate him to admit it.” 

“Makki!! I’m not pretending. He’s an asshole!” 

“He’s not. And in any case, him being an asshole is different from him being an amazing player, Tooru.” He rolled his eyes. “And honestly, I think he’s the only person I’ve ever seen handling you so well, not putting up with your shit. Your photoshoot together two years ago was such a hit. People went so crazy about all that sexual tension that they even got the two of you a ship name, like Brangelina.” He recalled with a laugh.

“They did what??” Tooru jumped in a sitting position, his face horrified at the new piece of information his friend had _conveniently_ just shared with him, two years too late.

“You didn’t know?? You’re always on social media, how could you not know?” Hanamaki seemed genuinely surprised. “It was a long time ago though, I doubt people are still thinking about it.” He tried to console him, even if he actually knew better and he was not-so-secretly enjoying the whole thing.

“And what would that name be?” Oikawa asked, after taking a deep breath. 

“Mmm,” he pretended to think about it. “If I remember correctly it was _IwaOi_.” 

He could almost see the fume coming out of his friend’s ears, and he bit his lips to suppress his laugh as he braced himself for what he knew was coming.

“I-IwaOi?? What the hell? Why not OiIwa? Why does his name get to be first? And who even comes up with these things anyway?” The tone of his voice was pitched impossibly high, obviously shocked. 

“Well, honestly IwaOi sounds better. Also, I’m not exactly well informed about this, but it seems that they put the name of the _giver_ first.” 

“THE WHAT??” Oikawa shrieked, downright outraged at that, and Hanamaki almost found himself rolling on the floor laughing. He just couldn’t help it. 

“He-” he pointed at the television with a shaky finger then at himself, incredulously. “Why would people assume that I would be on the receiving end? I’m even taller than him! MAKKI, STOP LAUGHING! THIS ISN’T FUNNY.” 

“Aww, don’t act as if you wouldn’t want him to fuck you into oblivion. Actually, you know what? I think you’ve been out of the game for too long and that’s exactly what you would need right no—ouch!”

“YOU. SORRY. EXCUSE. FOR. A. FRIEND. How can you say something like that??” He grabbed one of the pillows and rhythmed the words with each smack of it on Hanamaki’s body, his face now impossibly crimson.

“Drop the innocent and frigid act with me, you forget that I’ve been knowing you for almost 10 years now and I know you’re nothing like that. Also, it’s beyond me how you’ve never heard of these ship things, considering that there’s at least another famous—” Oikawa stopped him, covering his friend’s mouth before he could finish his sentence. This time Hanamaki knew the other was definitely going to lose it, and he almost regretted having started this topic.

_Almost._

“This other _ship_ …” Tooru started carefully, taking another deep breath. Hanamaki decided that it was better to try to save the situation before the other popped a vein. 

“Hey, you know what? The chicken is getting cold!” He opened the huge KFC box and stuck a chicken drum in Oikawa’s mouth, but the other bit at it in rage and held it threateningly towards him. 

“Tell me.” 

“Uhm… I was just teasing you, Tooru. Forget about it.” He said lamely, and predictably, Oikawa was starting to lose it.

“Tell me the name.” 

“Tooru.”

“Makki. If you don’t tell me, I’m going to tell the CEO that you left me in the middle of an event to go screw someone.” 

“You wouldn’t.” Hanamaki’s eyes widened in horror. 

“Oh, don’t try me.”

“UshiOi.” He muttered, after a few seconds of silence. 

“Come again?”

“UshiOi.” He repeated, this time loud and clear, avoiding his friend’s eyes.

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“Uhm… actually twitter is going crazy about it tonight.” 

“What? How do you even know??” He asked, horror written all over his face. 

“Because I use twitter? It’s not even a secret, everyone is talking about the two of you and _how sweet you looked when you shook his hand to congratulate him_.” 

Tooru’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t believe his own acting was biting him in the ass. This had to be one of the worst days of his life.

“Look.” Hanamaki handed him his phone.

_@ushioihoe: USHIOI NATION, WE WON TODAY!_ [pic attached]

1k likes - 540rts

 _@milkoiksbread: omg the way they look at each other_ (*≧∀≦*)

757 likes - 443rts

 _@ushioihoe: right?? istg they’re so fucking obvious. and the way Ushi’s hand lingers kyaaa im screamingggg_ ԅ(♡﹃♡ԅ)

538 likes - 389rts

  
  


“Wow, look at how many rts and likes, and it was posted only 15 minutes ago! They made a whole thread with your pics from today!” Hanamaki looked genuinely amazed.

Oikawa blinked repeatedly as he looked at the photo, baffled. 

“How can they say that his hand is lingering?? It’s just a picture, for fuck’s sake!!” 

“Well, his hand probably really lingered, since we now know that he’s really interested in you. Fans have an eye for these things.” Makki shrugged. 

“But I wasn’t looking at him _like that_. Can’t you see it’s a fake smile? How can my own fans pair me up with the two people I despise the most in this world?”

“I can tell because I know you well, but people who only know you on screen can’t possibly know that you actually would have liked to murder him in cold blood at that moment.” He replied, stifling a laugh. 

Tooru opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it. His mouth closed in a pout, and Takahiro knew his friend was tired and that the alcohol was starting to get to him. He knew better than anyone else how much those awards meant to him and how hard he had worked to bring them home that night. 

They stayed in comfortable silence for a few minutes, eyes trained on the tv screen as Japan failed to score a point. 

“Tobio-chan got better since high school, his chemistry with the shrimp is as scary as always. But he can’t really bring the best out of Iwaizumi.” He said, trying to ignore the sudden ache at his bad knee, even if it probably was just a psychological reflex. “His impact point is much higher than that.”

Hanamaki looked at him in surprise. He was probably admitting something like that because of the alcohol. Kageyama had admired Oikawa since middle school and he had learned a lot just by observing him, but Oikawa had always felt somehow threatened by his _natural talent_. Having played with Oikawa all through high school, Hanamaki could say that there wasn’t a better setter than his best friend. If it wasn’t for that damn knee, he would probably be on the other side of the screen now. 

After his injury, they had never talked about volleyball anymore. The topic was too triggering for the other, becoming off-limits. 

“I bet you could bring out his true potential.” Makki smirked.

“Damn right I could!” He exclaimed, and Takahiro’s heart broke a bit when Oikawa’s deep, chocolate eyes dilated and his lips trembled. 

He handed him another shot of vodka that the other gulped down in one go. He knew the other liked his current career and he took it extremely seriously, but his eyes didn’t sparkle like they did when he was on the court, ruling it. He wondered if, somehow, people could see it through the screen, and if that was the reason he was always one step behind Ushijima. He dismissed the thought, though. Oikawa was an amazing actor and no one had managed to _really_ grasp his essence until that moment, mostly because Oikawa himself wanted it to be that way. 

“Look, you were amazing in your last drama!” He said, earning himself a tired glare. “And I’m not saying this because I’m your friend or because I don’t want to see you moping anymore. I think you really deserved it this time, but we don’t know how Ushiwaka’s performance was since we didn’t watch his drama. I don’t think he’s better than you, and you’ve improved so much in such a short time. I’m sure the moment you’ll finally shine over everyone else will come soon. Just keep going.”

Oikawa’s eyes were glassy. They normally didn’t have these kinds of heartfelt conversations, so Hanamaki’s encouragement took him off guard. 

“I know it for sure, because I know you better than anyone else. So I’m allowing this sour mood of yours just for today and I expect you to go back to your absolutely unbearable bitchy, haughty self tomorrow.” He said. 

“I guess you’re not that bad as a friend…” Oikawa managed a small smile and Makki ruffled his still spray-slicked hair, grunting as his hand felt sticky because of that. 

“Ugh, you should really have a shower and wash your hair.” 

“Never mind. You’re the worst.” 

  
  
  
  


───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

  
  
  


Ariake Arena (Tokyo), August 2021

  
  
  


The sound of the ball unforgivingly being smacked on their side of the court resonated loudly in Hajime’s head. For a moment he hoped it was just a nightmare, but the final whistle arrived sooner than he would have liked to. 

Two points. 

That’s how close they were from bringing the gold medal home. They had won the semi-finals against Argentina, but Netherlands had won the final match. He quickly snapped out of it to gather his teammates to stand in line: a lot of them had fallen to their knees, others were standing but they were out of it. He wished he could do the same thing. He wished he could let out those tears of frustration, but he was the captain after all. He had responsibilities. And one of them was to be strong to keep the team together.

So he bit the inside of his cheek to keep it together a little longer. He looked at the coach and nodded reassuringly, then patted Matsukawa’s back comfortingly and helped him up. Hinata was bawling his eyes out, Kageyama and Ojiro were frozen in place, as if the loss hadn’t fully hit them yet. Bokuto was uncharacteristically quiet, the light in his eyes completely faded out. Yaku had his fists clenched, and Hajime knew he was blaming himself for not being able to get that last receive. 

The players on the bench were mournful too. On the other side of the net, the Netherland players were rightfully crying tears of joy. 

“Let’s stand in line, guys!” His voice thundered on their side of the court, strong and clear. They approached the net and shook hands with the other team’s players and, in english, the captain told Iwaizumi that it had been an awesome match. Hajime managed a small smile and nodded, thanking him and adding a challenging “Next time we’ll win.”

They were thrown in the medal ceremony almost immediately, Argentina players joining them to take their bronze medal after winning their match against China. 

During the 2016 Olympics, Japan’s adventure had ended in the quarter-finals so he was glad to have been able to lead this team to the finals for the first time since the gold in 1972. But that didn’t make it hurt less at the moment. 

He was surrounded by the press as soon as they left the podium, and he knew he had to try being patient for a bit longer. Matsukawa and Ojiro were being interviewed next to him, while the others had promptly left. 

“Iwaizumi-san, what do you think about your team’s performance today?” A japanese reporter asked him.

“Everyone played at their best, so I’m proud of them.” He replied honestly, but not bothering to smile in front of the cameras. He hated interviews and he had never bothered to pretend otherwise. The others were better at it than him, but this was apparently one other thing he had to do as the team’s captain. 

“What are you going to do now? What are your future plans?” Another reporter asked. 

“Well, next year we’ll have the Asian Games to attend, so we’re going to keep practicing hard like we did until now.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” A high pitched voice asked.

He heard Matsukawa mumbling a _“oh my”_ as he glared at the woman who asked the question, and everyone around them went still, almost holding their breath.

“I didn’t know gossip magazines could have a pass to the matches. I think my private life is none of your business, nor it’s something related to the match we have just played.” He said, coldly. The reporter blushed furiously, as she actually was from a sports magazine. She was unable to even open her mouth again, pinned by Iwaizumi’s livid stare. “I guess that’s all for today, people. You can thank your colleague for that. Let’s go, guys.” 

“You’ve just thrown her to the lions, captain.” Matsukawa snickered, as Aran sighed loudly.

“You know that I hate when people cross the line, Issei.” 

“Oh, I know. And I think they know too now. Didn’t something similar happen a long time ago with Oikawa Tooru? If I didn’t know better, I would say you have a kink for—”

“Shut up, dumbass! Why would you even bring _him_ up at a moment like this?” He scowled, interrupting him before he could finish what he was saying. Matsukawa grinned, marveling at the way his best friend’s neck started to flush red. Even if just for a brief moment, he had wanted to alleviate the tension and the burden he knew the other was feeling.

And that was also because as soon as they stepped in their locker room, they were hit in the face by a strong wave of mournful mood. Most of their teammates had already showered, but everyone was sitting on the benches head in hands. The always lively locker room was as silent as it could be. It’s not that they hadn’t lost before, but this loss was probably the one that hurt the most. Countless, silent _what ifs_ were hanging heavily in the air around them and Hajime knew he couldn’t leave it like that, so he took a deep breath and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. Matsukawa and Ojiro joined the others and sat on one of the benches.

“What’s with this mood, guys? We are silver medalists!” His teammates looked at him sulkily, but he knew well that it wouldn’t have been that easy. In the end, the only reason why he was doing that instead of crying his eyes out, was that he had to be strong on everyone’s behalf for them to stay motivated. He was this team’s captain after all.

“Look, we might have lost today, but this is a record that will go down in Japan volleyball’s history. The last result higher than the one we achieved together was when Japan won 44 years ago in Mexico!” 

That provoked some reactions and murmurs, and Hajime noticed that some of them took their eyes off the ground. 

“You fought well today, each one of you! Our loss wasn’t anyone’s fault: that’s just as a final Olympic match should have been. We had great opponents, and from this loss we can only keep practicing like we did until now. And we’ll have our revenge next time, because I’m sure this team will make it. We are an amazing team and I’m proud to be your captain.” 

Everyone started crying at that, touched by their captain’s comforting words.

“There’s nothing shameful in losing sometimes: even if we always play to win, every time we step on that court we are aware of the fact that there’s a chance we’d lose too. That’s how sports are. If we can’t accept losing, we can’t win. So let’s learn from this and allow ourselves to be greedier next time!” He roared and everyone roared back to him, their eyes finally shining again with determination.

“Now let’s go eat to celebrate this medal and then I think you all earned a free evening. Don’t forget to use condoms!” He said, and the splutters mixed with laughs made him smile. Hajime stalled as his teammates started to dress up and gathered their things. He just needed to be left alone for awhile, so he kept himself busy as the others left the room one by one, eventually leaving him alone with the coach.

“You know Hajime, the best decision I’ve ever made was to make you captain of this team. You’ve worked hard too, and I hope you’ll use your wise words to your teammates for yourself too. Take your time, we’ll wait for you on the bus.” The coach said knowingly, before closing the door behind himself and finally leaving him alone.

Hajime sighed heavily as he grabbed his amenities from his bag and threw himself under the hot water. He could finally feel his tense and tired muscles relaxing; he sorrowfully looked at the red and purple bruises on his arms and punched the wall, letting himself fall on his knees. He kept punching it lightly, just to let out a small amount of the frustration he was feeling, a broken sound coming from his throat. The tears he had been holding finally found their way out and they were incessantly flooding from his eyes, but with the water washing over his body he could at least pretend that they weren’t real.

  
  
  


───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

  
  
  


Tokyo, April 2019

  
  
  


Iwaizumi Hajime hated to be in the spotlight.

He knew that since he was a volleyball player, in a way he was bound to be, but at the same time he was convinced of the fact that athletes shouldn’t have to maintain appearances in front of the public. He wasn’t an actor, nor a singer or an entertainer of any sort, so his career didn’t depend on how people saw him. 

He just wanted to play volleyball.

After high school, he had been scouted by FC Tokyo, one of the most prominent teams of the V-League, and thanks to his outstanding performance, a few years earlier it had opened the doors of the national team too. 

So Hajime was absolutely bemused when his athlete management had told him that he had been chosen for a photoshoot for a famous magazine. It was beyond him which criteria they had used, but he was absolutely anything but a model. He was a walking disaster when it came to these things. He tried to find a way out of this burdensome arrangement, even suggesting someone more “camera-friendly” that could take his place, but for some unfathomable reason they had been intransigent. Apparently they thought he was the right man for that kind of job. 

When they told him that he actually had to do this shoot with a celebrity, Hajime was even more confused.

“Your partner for the photoshoot is Oikawa Tooru, a rising actor.” They had told him excitedly. At Hajime’s quizzical expression, the woman of the management seemed almost outraged, and she spent at least 10 minutes—to him it felt like an hour—explaining who this Oikawa guy was. Hajime actually spaced out for most of the time, so he just pretended to be listening, mindlessly nodding hoping to be released soon. All he heard were a few random words like _charming, gorgeous_ and _humble_. 

A few days later, sitting on one of the chairs at the indoor photoshoot location in the middle of a Yoyogi Park with its cherry blossoms in full bloom, Hajime learned that Oikawa Tooru was anything but humble. 

He had arrived 10 minutes fashionably late and apologized with the fakest smile he had ever seen, but everyone seemed to be swooning over him. Hajime didn’t believe in things like love at first sight but from that moment on, he sure as hell believed in _annoyed at first sight_.

He had brought coffee and sandwiches for everyone, as if to bribe them to forgive him. He seemed quite acquainted with Ukai-san, the photographer, who comfortably put a hand on his back. Hajime saw Ukai looking at him and whispering something to Oikawa, before the actor nodded and they were both making their way towards him.

“Oikawa, this is Iwaizumi-san; Iwaizumi-san, this is Oikawa Tooru. You’ve probably heard about him.” He introduced them, boosting the already inflated actor’s ego way too much for Hajime’s taste.

“Nice to meet you.” He said, shaking Oikawa’s hand with his usual firm grip. “Actually, my management told me about you just before the shooting. Sorry, I don’t watch a lot of tv.” The actor’s fake smile faltered at that, his eyes widening in shock for a brief moment before sharpening. 

“Oh, is that so? Don’t worry, Iwaizumi. I had never heard about you either until now and I still don’t know what you do. You don’t seem to be a model though, you are a bit too short for that.” Oikawa fired back with fake innocence, marvelling at the way Iwaizumi’s expression stiffened, because it meant he had successfully hit a nerve. They were still shaking hands, but the grip had become way too strong for it to be cordial.

Ukai was looking between the two of them with a strange glint in his eyes, the tension spiking inside the small studio.

“Ahah, Iwaizumi-san is a volleyball player, Oikawa. He recently got into the national team too, so he’s a promising talent for our country.” He explained with an awkward laugh, trying to separate them. It was obvious that the actor knew who he was, and not because Iwaizumi thought of himself as a famous person, but because of his childish way to try to get back at him and humiliate him when Iwa had said he hadn’t heard about him before.

“Don’t worry, Ukai-san. I don’t really care about people knowing who I am. I just want to play volleyball.” Hajime didn’t miss the way Oikawa’s chocolate, big eyes wavered at his statement, nor the way his fists clenched. 

“I guess you’re all muscles and no brain, but well, it doesn’t really surprise me.” His tone was ice cold.

“At least I have the muscles to justify that, but since you don’t even have them, what’s your excuse for being a dumbass?” Hajime retaliated, smugly.

“You—”

“Oh, look at the time! You should go to change, Oikawa!” The photographer interceded before things could escalate even more. The actor turned around and stalked towards the dressing rooms, obviously enraged. 

“Sorry for the delay, Iwaizumi-san.” Ukai sheepishly said after Oikawa closed the door behind him. 

“You’re not the one who should apologize, Ukai-san.” He couldn’t even conceal how pissed off he was. He wasn’t good at acting after all.

“Let’s go to warm up a bit with some solo shoots for now! It’s your first photoshoot, right? You must be nervous.” Ukai offered with a smile. Strangely enough though, he didn’t seem that surprised about the heavy atmosphere between his two models; he even seemed kind of thrilled about it. 

“Yes, it’s not really my comfort zone.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be amazing!” 

“Somehow I’m not that sure about it.” He mumbled, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for a mentally exhausting day. 

  
  


Oikawa emerged from the dressing room not even 10 minutes later, wearing a pair of creamy trousers that made his legs look even longer if possible, a short-sleeved denim shirt and specs. The volleyball player had to begrudgingly admit to himself that the other looked effortlessly good, and even the glasses suited him. This first outfit was casual and it matched Hajime’s in a contrasting way, like fire and ice, light and darkness.

The director told them that the concept they were going for was “opposites attract” and that he was sure they were going to pull it off. The first part of the shooting was going to be indoor, while the second part outside. 

Oikawa was definitely in his element: his movements were fluid and elegant, his expressions always on point. Hajime was thankful for the solo shoot he did earlier, because he felt a bit more at ease. 

Since opposites normally gravitate towards each other before they meet, thankfully during the first part of the photoshoot they didn’t have to interact much and they were done with it quite quickly, with Ukai getting in some difficult and strange positions to get the best shots. Hajime didn’t know if he was more amazed or weirded out, but he respected the photographer’s work ethic. Also, the fact that they obviously couldn’t stand each other seemed to go well with the first part of the concept too.

After that, Hajime changed quickly and followed the staff outside, where there were a few golf carts waiting for them to reach the next location. He hopped on one and he couldn’t help but admire the breathtaking scenery and the spring breeze that made the pink blossomed branches oscillate soothingly. 

After 5 minutes they were at the location, which had been enclosed for the occasion; and since it was in a secluded part of the park there were just a few curious eyes. It was absolutely beautiful, with a small river and a red bridge cutting through it, cherry blossoms laying on the water surface. 

He sat on one of the two chairs while he waited for the rest of the staff and Oikawa to reach them too, not surprised that the other wasn’t there yet. He was extremely comfortable in his green loose sweater and ripped black jeans, and with his eyes closed he was finally letting himself relax under the sunny sky, when a shadow disrupted his peaceful moment. He grunted and opened his eyes, absolutely unsurprised to see Oikawa glaring at him, as if the actor’s main goal of the day was to pester him as much as he could.

“That’s my seat.” He said, obviously set on pissing him off. 

Under Oikawa’s gaze, Hajime pretended to check the chair. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see your name written on it.” He said, matching the coldness the other had used.

Hajime was a polite person, but if someone was disrespectful towards him without any reasons, he was going to use their same medicine, and Oikawa was surely testing his patience. When he saw the genuine surprise in the other’s eyes, he guessed that he was probably the first person to not put up with his bullshit. 

“There’s another chair right here.” He pointed next to him, “so just sit down and stop acting like a spoiled brat.” 

“Excuse me??” Oikawa’s face flushed in humiliation, mouth agape and fists clenching on nothing. 

“You arrived late and gave half-assed apologies knowing that people were going to forgive you because of your pretty face. Well, it doesn’t work on me. If anything, I find your face and your fake smile incredibly annoying.” He said, emerald eyes meeting milk chocolate ones. He could see that the actor was livid, but something seemed to make him remember his surroundings. Then, as if something clicked in his mind, his lips quirked up in an amused, smug grin, and he leaned down until his lips were close to Hajime’s ear, the movement exposing his collarbones and giving him a glimpse of the actor’s chest.

“I think you forgot to deny the pretty face part, _Iwa-chan_.” His breath tickled his ear on purpose. The volleyball player’ senses were hit hard by the other’s perfume, which somehow seemed to match perfectly with their surroundings: he could distinguish faint notes of vanilla, flowers and coffee. For a moment he felt himself being forcefully pulled in, but as the other’s words sunk in, he came back to his senses as all the composure left his body, turning his face to glare at Oikawa, their faces dangerously close.

“What did you just call me?” He growled, annoyed that his body was reacting that way because of that asshole, as if he was some kind of horny teenager. 

Oikawa smirked at that, knowing that he had won this last face-off at least. 

“Iwaizumi is too long to say.” He whined, making a childish, dismissive gesture with his hand. “And unfortunately for you, I don’t think we are on a first name basis yet.” He teased, tone sultry and full of innuendos that somehow treacherously made their way straight to Hajime’s lower belly.

But two could play this game, he wasn’t going to let himself be the only one unfairly affected by this; so he soared up towards Oikawa, not leaving much space between their bodies, and towered him with his presence even though he was a bit shorter than him.

“You’re right, _Shittykawa_.” He stated, not missing the flash of surprise the other made at his new nickname and then leaning towards his ear. “And unfortunately for you I don’t see that happening ‘cause the only way for you to say my first name would be in a dream in which, among other things, that mouth of yours would certainly be put to a better use. And who knows, maybe in _other circumstances_ you’d be less of a stuck up bitch.” He fired back with one of his lowest ranges of voice. 

Oikawa visibly shivered at that, unable to stop the crimson flush creeping up his face. The air around them was so thick with tension that for both of them it was becoming difficult to breathe.

“Oikawa!” A voice broke the spell, and Hajime was kind of thankful to the stranger because things were getting a bit too heated, and at least he could pretend his ears weren’t turning red.

Next to Oikawa appeared a pink-haired guy, seemingly the same age as them. 

“Wow wow, what’s going on here? The air reeks of unresolved sexual tension!” He said, smirking as both Hajime and Oikawa looked at him outraged for even implying something like that.

“He wished.” Hajime said.

“I wouldn’t be with him even if he was the last man on earth.” Oikawa scoffed. 

“I’m Hanamaki Takahiro, Oikawa’s manager.” He introduced himself, rolling his eyes at their antics and ignoring both of their statements. “You must be Iwaizumi Hajime. We heard a lot about you. Nice to finally meet you!” Oikawa’s head snapped towards his manager way too quickly, but the damage was already done.

“Nice to meet you too, Hanamaki-san.” He bowed. “Oikawa must suffer from short-term memory, since just earlier he claimed he didn’t know anything about me.” He added looking towards the actor bemusedly.

Hanamaki glanced at his friend—who had conveniently turned his head the other way with a _hmph_ and crossed his arms childishly—and sighed.

“I’m sorry about him, he can be a bitch sometimes. Don’t take it personally.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Thank you for the heads-up!”

“Makki!!” Oikawa shrieked, betrayed.

Noticing Iwaizumi’s shocked and somehow worried face, Hanamaki felt like clarifying the situation. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I, unluckily for me, happen to also be his best friend. I’ve been knowing him since high school.”

The corners of Hajime’s mouth quirked up, and he instantly knew he liked the other guy. 

“I surely don’t envy you.” He replied sympathetically.

“Tsk, let’s go Makki.” He dragged his friend away and Hajime took a deep breath before letting himself fall on the chair once again. This was turning out to be a way more exhausting day than he first thought.

  
  
  


“He’s so fucking infuriating, I can’t stand him!” Oikawa exclaimed once they were out of sight to retouch his make-up before the next shoot. 

“Mmm, I think the two of you actually suit each other. I wasn’t joking when I said that about the sexual tension. I thought the studio was going to be set up in flames!” The other said, earning himself a glare.

“As if!” He was going to deny that statement until he died, Hanamaki knew that.

“You really pretended not to know his name? Very mature of you, Oikawa.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Well, he said someone had _just_ told him about me because he doesn’t watch tv.” 

“Oh, so your ego was hurt and you wanted to try to hurt him back by saying the same thing? What are you, six years old?”

“Makki, does it even make sense that he didn’t know me? It’s clear that he wanted to piss me off.”

“You didn’t think it could be the truth? He seems a nice guy, I don’t think that was his intention.” He tried to reason with him, then giving up just a few seconds later because his best friend was probably the most stubborn person walking on earth. “So, did your petty revenge work?” He asked then.

Oikawa scoffed at that, and Makki had his reply. “As expected.”

“He really irks me in all the wrong ways. When I seem to have the upper hand over him, he always ends up to have another answer ready.” He was frustrated beyond words, and Makki’s eyes lit up at that.

“Oh, that’s what it’s about then. You’ve found that _one_ person that doesn’t kneel at your feet and refuses to put up with your bullshit, of course you can’t stand that!” He smirked. 

“Wha—I don’t know what you’re talking about. Which side are you on by the way?” 

“I don’t take sides.” He shrugged. 

“You should, since I’m the one who pays you!” 

“Yes yes, Your Majesty.” He bowed elegantly, like in those historical western movies, and Tooru smacked his head.

  
  
  


When everyone was finally ready for the last part of the shoot, Ukai briefed them about what he wanted to see from them in that particular setting. 

“I want you to act as if you’re _really_ close to each other. The scenery around you is stunning, and I want to make the most from it to make this photoshoot memorable! You’ll cross the bridge in a playful atmosphere; as if you are childhood friends who are used to coming here every spring since a long time ago, and when you reach the middle, I want Oikawa to walk on the railing and Iwaizumi-san to hold his hand through the rest of the bridge.”

“Hold what??” They both asked at the same time, almost hysterically. Ukai laughed at that.

“We’ll get amazing shots with the castle in the background! Capturing the youth blooming in spring accompanied by a nostalgic feeling!” He explained almost dreamily, ignoring the way the other two were looking at him. 

Hanamaki grinned behind them; he couldn’t wait to see how they were going to pull this off, but he had high expectations.

“B-But…” 

“Let’s go then!” The photographer exclaimed before any of them could complain.

They started to cross the bridge, walking stiffly next to each other. The scenery was indeed gorgeous; a mantle of pink petals was covering the red bridge and the water like a blanket. 

“During this part of the shoot, I want the two of you to make eye contact and smile.” Ukai told them, positioned not too far from them.

Once he hopped on, Hajime extended his hand towards him. 

“I don’t understand why we have to hold hands.” Oikawa complained, a fake smile stretched on his face for the sake of the shoot.

“What, are you homophobic?” Iwaizumi asked. Oikawa’s eyes widened at that.

“Wha—I’m not! But hey, now you’re playing cool? You weren’t happy about it either when Ukai told us that.” 

“And I’m still not happy about it. But I think he’s afraid you’ll fall.” He pondered. 

“Hmph, you don’t know him.” 

“I guess you know him well then?” Iwa’s tone wasn’t suggestive—or at least he didn’t think it was—but Oikawa briefly looked at him. 

“So you go from calling me homophobic to accusing me to sleep around. Don’t you know any half-measures, Iwa-chan?” 

Something in his voice made Hajime look at him, and the sight of that schooled smile made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

“I—”

“I don’t need your help, Iwa-chan! I’ll have you know that I have an outstanding balance.” He bragged, seemingly as obnoxious as he was a few minutes ago.

“Yes, yes. As you say, Assikawa.” 

“Are you mocking me?? And what’s with these rude nicknames?”

“You started it. I’ll keep doing that as long as you’ll call me with that absurd, childish nickname you chose for me.”

They kept bickering until they reached the middle of the bridge, where they also took some solo pics before Oikawa stepped on the footstool to get on the red railing, which was wide enough for him to stand on it with both of his feet; a person from the staff helping him to stay balanced before stepping back.

“Iwaizumi-san, now I want you to smile and take Oikawa’s hand.” Ukai said from his position, well aware of how tense his models were and unable to hide a smirk. “Think intensely about a beautiful memory if it can help you!” 

After thinking about it for a few moments, as cherry blossoms were softly falling all around them, Hajime extended his hand up towards Oikawa, giving him a beautiful, genuine smile. Oikawa was stunned into silence for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise and unable to deny both the way his heart treacherously skipped a beat and the boyish charm the other was exuding. To think that a resting grumpy face was hiding such a smile!

What kind of memory made him smile like that? A childhood memory? A memory of a lover? 

He was never going to admit it out loud, but he was terribly curious.

The noise of someone clearing their throat made him snap out of his thoughts, and he hoped the warmth he felt around his ears was just an illusion.

He begrudgingly took Iwaizumi’s hand. It was warm: an overwhelming contrast with his always cold ones.

“What’s with you?” Iwaizumi asked as they resumed their walk through the bridge, carefully studying him. Oikawa mentally cursed, wondering how it was that this annoying guy had to catch on things he wasn’t supposed to.

“I was just wondering if you had a frickin hot pack in your pockets.” He scoffed. “Your hand is disgustingly sweaty.” 

The volleyball player didn’t fall for his lie though, a small grin gracing his face. 

“What, has the almighty ice prince fallen for my charm?” 

Oikawa stumbled on his feet at that, losing balance towards the river. And everyone around them held their breath, absolutely terrified.

“Oi, be care—”

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Oikawa gasped loudly and closed his eyes, sure that he was going to fall but the impact with the water never came. Instead, he felt his body being urgently pulled the opposite way, and when he tentatively opened his eyes, he found himself embraced by strong arms: Iwaizumi had literally caught him. He noticed that his hands were on Iwaizumi’s shoulders; the raven looking up towards him, his brows furrowed in something that seemed like concern. For what seemed a long moment, they were unable to break the eye-contact, not sure if it was because it felt like a competition or because of the pull they were feeling towards each other. 

Or both.

But everything around them seemed to have stilled; only the cherry blossoms around them still dancing their way to the ground seemed to be proof that time hadn’t actually stopped. 

Iwaizumi’s arms were firm around his waist, and even though he was wearing a sweater, Oikawa could feel his fingertips hot on his skin as if they were burning the fabric and sparking jolts of electricity through his body.

How strong was he that he managed to hold him up without apparent struggle, even though Oikawa was taller than him? And why did it feel like their bodies fit each other’s like puzzle pieces?

The incessant and loud clicking of the camera around them made Oikawa recover first.

“How long do you intend to keep holding me, Iwa-chan?” He smirked, trying his best to hide how affected he actually was.

Iwaizumi blinked and scoffed, loosening the hold around the actor’s body and unceremoniously letting him down. 

“You’re welcome, asshole. So much for your outstanding balance.” 

“Ha, it was your fault I was falling in the first place. Why the hell should I thank you?”

Iwaizumi was so frustrated, he couldn’t believe that for a moment he had actually felt a strange energy between them; he couldn’t believe that for a brief moment, he thought about how beautiful were Oikawa’s eyes, with those long eyelashes and a faint pink appearing on his cheeks.

So he just turned towards the staff, ignoring the other, and he froze when he saw how everyone was looking at them. Ukai seemed in absolute ecstasy. 

“That was A M A Z I N G! Top tier chemistry; I knew I had seen right when I casted the two of you!” He yelled, extremely hyped. “These pictures will be a huge hit! Good job, guys!” He almost had tears in his eyes. 

That seemed to leave both of them speechless for once. 

“Uh, Ukai-san. I don’t think that might be good material from that.” Oikawa stated, and Hajime thought it was the first, right thing he had said during the whole day. 

“What are you saying, it’s perfect! We can end the photoshoot here, I have everything I need!” The photographer declared, his tone was definitive, as if nothing they could do or say was ever going to change his mind. The only person who was trying to hold back his laugh was Hanamaki, probably because the expression both of the models were sporting was downright horrified. 

After that, they were done in 5 minutes, still shocked when Ukai thanked everyone for their hard work and sent them home. 

They went back to the small studio to change and take their things. Hajime changed in his comfortable tracksuit, happy to see that he was still in time to go training. 

When he opened the door to leave the changing room with his training bag on his shoulder, the door next to his own opened too. Oikawa had changed and put his sunglasses on, and he was whispering something to Hanamaki who was snickering at his friend’s expenses. 

“Oh, Iwaizumi-san!” Makki said, noticing him and approaching him. “It was nice meeting you, and thank you for saving this asshole from a bath in the river.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes at that.

“It was nice meeting you too, Hanamaki-san.” He said, bowing to him. “Can’t say the same about him though.” 

“Hmph, such a rude person.” Oikawa mumbled, loud enough that his words reached Iwaizumi’s ear. The volleyball player ignored his words and made his way towards the door, greeting the staff around him. Then he stopped with his hand on the door’s handle and glanced back at the actor for the last time. 

“It will never be too late when you’ll learn to apologize and thank people for the things happening around you, Shittykawa.” He said, looking at him with pity in his eyes and noticing how the other’s eyes widened at the deserved but unexpected jab. “Hope you’ll grow up someday.”

And he left, leaving a fuming and humiliated Oikawa behind him; both of them hoping it was going to be the first and the last time they had the misfortune to see each other. 

  
  
  


───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

  
  
  


TV Tokyo Roppongi HQ, October 2021

  
  
  


Inside a white, bright room, around twenty people were immersed in a meeting to choose the new couple for the tv show _We Got Married - Japan._

The show, which consisted in pairing two celebrities in a fake marriage and have them complete various tasks together, had been running for a few years already, but the producers felt like they were in need of something new, groundbreaking; so on the long, rectangular table it was full of magazines, documents and images, while on the projector screen there were the pictures of ten male candidates. 

Yes, they intended to cast the first same-sex couple in the history of the show. 

The pictures were of japanese idols, athletes, actors and models. They just had to figure out with which couple they could hit the jackpot; and for this to happen, they had to study their profiles, interests and—if they had any—interactions with each other. Some of them had come out already, others had never denied that they were attracted to the same sex, others were still completely in the closet. Some of them had applied for the reality show years ago, stating already that they didn’t mind the gender of their possible partner. 

The producer had to think about everything: dynamics, chemistry, schedules, scenarios. So they were going to choose the couple and send out the contracts to their agencies, asking for confirmation that the gender wasn’t going to be a problem, but without disclosing the name of the person they were going to be paired with.

The surprise element was _essential_ for the show and for the couple’s first encounter. 

“I think we all agree that we strongly want Oikawa Tooru to be casted. His popularity is great and he has a good relationship with his fans, and the fact that he didn’t win any awards during the last ceremony might be in our favor. I’m sure his agency wants him to be known to even more people.” The main producer stated, gaining approving nods by everyone in the room. “It’s true that he’s one of a kind, but since he’s mindful of his image with the public, I think he will be our strongest choice.”

The actor’s picture appeared on the left side of the screen, while on the right side appeared the ones of three candidates to pair him with. 

“The three people he might have the most chemistry with are Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kuroo Tetsurou and Iwaizumi Hajime.” 

“Mmm, it’s well known that Oikawa Tooru and Kuroo Tetsurou are best friends, so people wouldn’t believe much in this pairing in my opinion.” A woman from the staff pondered, finding most of her colleagues agreeing with her and they consequently proceeding to eliminate the other actor from the board. 

“Honestly, I think this is a hard choice. The potential in both couples is undoubtedly high, and somehow they both already have established fandoms on social media.” The head producer said, and some heads inside the room looked curious about his statement. On the screen appeared two pictures: one from the latest award ceremony that saw Oikawa and Ushijima shaking hands, while the other was from the famous Harper’s Bazaar 2019 photoshoot that paired up Iwaizumi and Oikawa for the first time. 

“Ukai Keishin is a true visionary. To think that this photoshoot would have been such a hit! The chemistry between the two of them was undeniable.” A man said, admiring the picture in which Iwaizumi is holding Oikawa in his arms on the red bridge, a shower of elegant cherry blossoms falling around them.

“I think Ushijima-Oikawa would be such a power couple!” A woman said, dreamily. 

“Uh, but there are rumors that Oikawa-san doesn’t really like Ushijima-san. And the fact that we can say they are rivals in their field might be a disadvantage in their dynamics. I think it’s too risky.” 

“But as far as I’ve heard, Iwaizumi-san is quite the difficult person. He kind of has no filter; the jab at the journalist after the Olympics final made it to the international headlines.”

“That’s part of his charm. Ukai-san said their dynamics during the photoshoot were top tier, as if they completed each other. He tried to cast him again after that, but he said he wanted to focus on volleyball.” 

“So he might reject our proposal…” 

“I don’t think they will. Seeing the current situation, I think it would be beneficial for his management and for volleyball in general if the captain of the national team appeared as a regular on a reality show. It might attract new supporters, and oh, I heard that Oikawa used to play volleyball during high school! It seems a match made in heaven.”

“Remember that with this show, we aim to involve a vast audience and to tackle discrimination gay couples face daily: this is to contribute making Japan a better place.” The head producer announced. “Let’s vote then. How many in favor of the Ushijima-Oikawa couple?”

Seven hands were raised in favor of the actors, and the producer smiled.

“How many in favor of Iwaizumi-Oikawa?” 

The rest of the hands went up at the question, showing an overwhelming consensus towards the pairing. Everyone in the room clapped enthusiastically, and Iwaizumi’s picture finally appeared next to Oikawa’s on the screen.

“It’s decided then: Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime will be the first same-sex couple in the history of _We Got Married_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ~
> 
> I've been working on this fic for months and since it's my first IwaOi fic, I was really anxious to post it.  
> Kudos and comments are absolutely well accepted and encouraged, since I'm curious to know what you think about this and your feedback will surely help me to update faster! 🥺  
> I hope you liked this first chapter, and [here](https://www.pinterest.it/marti_803/iwaoi-falling-like-the-stars-moodboard/chapter-1/) you can find the Pinterest board I made for it! Each chapter will have a dedicated board! 
> 
> twitter: [@miyueijun](https://twitter.com/miyueijun)


	2. Chapter 2

Seijoh Ent. HQ (Tokyo), November 2021

  
  
  


Oikawa and Hanamaki were making their way inside the company building: the CEO had asked them to meet him in his office to discuss a new contract the company received and he seemed quite excited about it, which was quite uncharacteristic of him. So Tooru didn’t have a good feeling about it because it meant that whatever it was, he probably would have to go along with it whether he liked it or not. 

“Oikawa-senpai! Hanamaki-san!” A voice called them.

“Oh, if it isn’t Yahaba-kun!” Makki greeted him, and Tooru smiled fondly as his favorite kouhai approached them. 

“Senpai, I heard you got an awesome proposal! Everyone seems so excited about it but they won’t tell me anything.” He pouted. 

Oikawa let the information sink in, wondering what kind of contract it was going to be. A drama? A movie? Or maybe a famous show appearance?

He looked at Makki, who seemed just as curious as he was. Being his manager he usually knew about these things first, so the fact that the contract had arrived in the CEO’s hands was the proof that it was probably something big.

“I don’t know about it yet either, Shigeru-chan. I guess we’ll find out soon!” He smiled, patting his shoulder.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure senpai will be amazing in it!” Yahaba replied, eyes sparkling in admiration and anticipation.

“Yahaba-kun, there’s no need for you to idolize him like this.” Makki sighed, “This guy’s ego is already huge enough as it is.”

Tooru lightly elbowed his best friend in the ribs, and Yahaba smiled at the playful scene. 

“I’ll be going now, senpai! Good luck!” He said, bowing to both of them before joining his manager at the entrance of the building. 

After that, the two friends proceeded towards the elevator, the silence indicative of Tooru’s nervousness. 

“Hey, I’m sure it won’t be that bad!” Makki told him with a lively voice as he saw his friend anxiously scratching the skin around his nails; a bad habit he had since he was little.

“Mm, I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this.” He said as they stepped out of the elevator and walked towards the CEO’s office. The secretary saw them approaching and promptly speed-dialed the CEO to notify him about their arrival.

“Oikawa, Hanamaki! Come sit here!” Irihata, the CEO, enthusiastically greeted them as they came in.

The two of them politely bowed in response and made their way towards the black leather couch in the middle of the room. 

Irihata was a good CEO, he regarded Tooru as a son and he had been one of the first people to believe in him. But he often let himself get carried away, and more than once Tooru had found himself involved in some cringy projects that, having the choice, he would have gladly avoided.

Irihata sat on the sofa in front of his desk, holding a stack of documents in his hands. The excitement was clear in his eyes.

“I don’t know if you remember, but a few years ago you submitted your application for the show _We Got Married_.” He said.

 _"Oh!"_ He thought.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, they’re finally resuming the show and they strongly want you as the star of the new season!”

“Is that so?” He was legitimately surprised about it.

“Yes!! What do you think? I think it would be an amazing chance for you! People will get to know you better and that will have a good influence on your future drama and movie audience! They’re also offering a lot of money.”

Tooru wasn’t stupid, there probably wasn’t a more calculative person than him in the world and he knew this was going to be an important step in his career, but he couldn’t help the uneasy feeling growing inside of him. 

“I thought you would have been thrilled about it. Is something bothering you?” The CEO asked, seriously. Makki looked towards him too.

“Does it say who my partner will be?” Tooru asked.

“No, it says they value the surprise element so we can’t know that yet. They just want to know if your preferences changed since the time you filled in the form.”

“Mm, I guess they’re referring to the gender of my partner. Does that mean there’s a possibility that I’ll have a male partner?” His eyes widened in surprise at the thought. 

“Well, _that_ would be a pleasant surprise, wouldn’t it? But I wonder if they actually have the guts to do it.” Makki smirked.

Tooru felt a bit better at the possibility. Back then he had marked both male and female on the form, but it was mostly because he really wanted to appear in the tv show and he knew that he would have had more chances if he were to include women too.

His sexuality wasn’t a secret to Irihata: the CEO had asked him about his sexual preferences almost as soon as they met, because he had to be able to do damage control in case he was ever involved in a scandal. But Tooru had never felt judged; he had actually felt better telling him, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He appreciated that he had nothing to hide and he knew that not everyone in the industry was as lucky as him.

He had never felt the need to tell his parents, because deep inside Tooru felt like they already knew. But he remembered that when he was in his teens he had talked about it with his sister and asked her for advice because he had been feeling so lost, unsure if it was okay to feel attracted to both boys and girls.

“The contract says that the two of you will be living together for at least 3 months, with the possibility to extend and renew the contract once we see the ratings and the public’s response. Both of your schedules won’t be affected in any way: the difference is that you’ll be filmed while attending them. For your privacy, the CCTVs inside the house where you’ll be living will be turned off during the night and your two days off a week. We don’t know any details about the missions because that’s part of the surprise element too, but everything will be carefully selected.” Irihata explained. “What do you say?”

“I just hope they won’t pair me with someone insufferable.” Tooru said, passing a hand through his perfectly styled chocolate hair.

“That should be your future partner’s line. I feel bad for whoever it will be.” Makki sighed. “Poor soul doesn’t know what awaits her or _him._ ”

Irihata couldn’t help the way the corner of his mouth quirked up at Hanamaki’s jab and at how Tooru launched himself forward to hit him; he was really fond of them. He then cleared his throat and passed the contract to Oikawa, so that he could sign it.

“The show will start shooting in January.” He announced.

  
  
  


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Roppongi Hills (Tokyo), January 2022

  
  


It was 7:30pm on a cold, snowy January evening when Hajime was driving his black Audi Q8 through the busy road leading to Roppongi Hills Mori Tower for the first day of shooting. He had refused to have someone escorting him there like a celebrity: he wanted to keep this as simple and natural as he could. 

He was lightly tapping on the wheel, humming the lyrics of an old Utada Hikaru song that he hadn’t heard in years. He was surprised to realize he still remembered a song from his teen days.

He was breathless for a moment as he took in the sight of the street: the trees on both sides of it were still adorned with white and blue glittering lights shining brightly in the darkness of the night that, with the fall of the snow, were beautifully framing the illuminated Tokyo Tower far in the background.

He turned towards an underground parking under the Roppongi Hills complex and after he shut the engine off he stayed still for a few minutes, trying to relax.

He had almost two months to mentally prepare himself for this moment, and the idea of being on national television on a fake marriage reality show still hadn’t sat well with him. We could say that his management had emotionally blackmailed him in signing the contract, stressing about the fact that as the captain of the national volleyball team, it was his duty to make volleyball more known nationwide.

It had felt like some kind of déjà-vu and it made him roll his eyes.

After the photoshoot almost three years earlier, for the sake of his mental sanity, he had strictly requested not to have him casted in other projects. They hadn’t been happy about it at all, since the photoshoot had unexpectedly gained so much attention; not to mention that he had to put up with his teammates teasing him endlessly about his model career and about the _burning chemistry_ he had with Oikawa Tooru, and how the two of them seemed to be literally eye-fucking each other. He had lost count of how many volleyballs he had ferociously thrown at them, mercilessly aiming for their heads. Because he was never going to admit that when he had seen the magazine for the first time, he was left speechless for a good 5 minutes, as if his brain had suddenly started malfunctioning.

Also, his last relationship—which had ended a few years ago—had left him to pick up the pieces. He had decided back then that he was never going to fall in love again.

Love was painful and overrated. Marriage was the first step towards divorce.

So he really wasn’t in the mood to pretend to be lovey-dovey in a fake marriage for three months with someone he didn’t even know. This was the pure embodiment of everything he despised. But no matter how much he tried, there hadn’t been anything he could do to get out of this situation since, once again, they told him that he was strongly wanted for this show.

After a deep sigh, he took his scarf from the passenger seat and finally headed to the meeting point, right on schedule as always.

So there he was, at the high tower’s feet, surrounded by the excited tv crew as he waited for his partner to be introduced to him. He had watched a few episodes starring another couple to have at least an idea of what was expecting him, and he had cringed more than once at some things he saw. He prayed that he was going to pull it off somehow, even though having his own privacy almost completely cut off wasn’t going to be easy. 

Apparently, the wedding was going to be on the second day of shooting and they will move into their newlyweds house right after the ceremony.

The director was almost in tears when he saw him, telling him how much of a fan he was and how delighted he was to have him there.

He was apparently the first athlete to be casted on the show and the director probably caught on how nervous he was, because he put a hand on his shoulder and suggested him to just be himself, because the fact that he was so honest with his reactions was one of the reasons why they had wanted him there in the first place. 

Hajime wondered how long it was going to be before they were going to regret the absurd choice of casting him, but he stretched a smile in response nonetheless. He took a deep breath as the preparations were almost done.

“We Got Married - Japan, season 6; episode 1. Action!” The director announced.

A woman from the staff approached him as they were at the entrance of the building—now closed to the public because of the shooting—and Hajime was given his first mission card. He read the content out loud, like they had asked him before they started.

**Mission 1:**

_Your partner is inside the building. Take the elevator, stop at the 6th floor and ask the person waiting for you what’s their favorite food. You’ll know you have the right person in front of you if their reply will be “milk bread”._

_Good luck!_

Hajime couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected answer. He had contrasting feelings about this whole thing but against his beliefs, when they had handed him the envelope with the first mission, he also felt some kind of anticipation he didn’t think was possible. 

He really had no clue about who his partner might be, nor their gender. Probably, if he had been a bit more interested in the celebrity industry, he would have had a hint about someone who liked something as childish as milk bread. 

That had managed to intrigue him though. 

He stepped inside the building and once on the elevator he pressed number 6, which he saw was part of the Grand Hyatt Hotel. There was a camera inside, so he tried not to be too self-conscious.

He saw the numbers going up and felt more nervous each second. As the _ding_ signaled the elevator’s door opening, he sucked in a breath. 

In front of him was a girl in her twenties with long black hair; Hajime knew she was famous but couldn’t exactly collocate her anywhere.

“Hello.” He bowed politely. 

“Hi, Iwaizumi-san.” She replied. Her voice was soft but not shy. “I’m Shimizu Kiyoko, a singer.” She introduced herself, probably picking up on the fact that Hajime seemed clueless about who she was. She didn’t seem bothered by it though, and the volleyball player couldn’t help but recall how different her reaction was compared to a certain someone. 

“Oh, nice to meet you, Shimizu-san.” Hajime gave her an apologetic smile, that she reciprocated kindly. Then an awkward silence followed.

“Uhm, what’s your favorite food?” He asked, trying to end both of their sufferings as soon as possible. He didn’t feel like she was the one, it couldn’t be that easy.

“It’s tenmusu.” She replied, now more at ease. 

“So I guess you’re not my wife!” Hajime stated, as a matter of fact. Shimizu’s eyes widened a bit at that. 

“I’m not.” She replied. “You might go up to the 52F now! Good luck in finding your partner and congratulations on your marriage!” She wished him, as the doors of the elevator were closing. 

Hajime felt his cheeks warming up at the way the word _marriage_ sounded; he couldn’t believe he was really doing this. He pressed the floor number, getting more restless by the second. 

When the elevator stopped once again, a man in his twenties with ash blond hair was standing right in front of him. He was carrying a guitar and his clothes gave him a rockstar vibe, so he guessed he was a singer too. Could it be that he was his future husband?

“Hello.” Hajime greeted him.

“Hi, I’m Semi Eita.” He seemed to have a perpetual scowl on his face, but there was also a flash of surprise in his eyes. “You’re as handsome as they say.” He wasn’t even flirting; he said it as if it was simply a fact, and Hajime couldn’t help but blush slightly. 

He wasn’t even the shy type to begin with, but the fact that these people seemed to know him and he didn’t have a clue about who they were, was making him feel at disadvantage. 

What were the chances that they were all volleyball fans?

He cleared his throat with a cough and thanked him. 

“Are you hungry, Semi-san?” He then asked. 

“As a matter of fact, I am.” The other replied. 

“Can I ask you what’s your favorite food?” 

He wondered if that was it. There were a lot of cameras around them, so it could actually be. 

“My favorite food is…” He made a suspenseful pause. “Tekka Maki.” 

Hajime’s shoulder relaxed, a bit disappointed because he thought Semi could have been an interesting person. He was quite handsome too.

Semi gave him a smirk, as if he knew what he was thinking. 

“On this floor, take the escalator and head towards the observatory. You’ll find other clues on your way there! And congrats!” He waved as he walked towards the elevator to get in, while Hajime was stepping outside to continue his journey.

There were some security guards on the floor and now two cameramen were following him as he walked towards the observatory. At some point, on the floor appeared rose petals to guide him in the right direction. 

_“How cheesy.”_ Hajime thought. 

The petals stopped in front of the Sky Deck sign, and Hajime realized he had never been there before. Since this was the highest point of the building, he realized that the end of this peculiar treasure—partner—hunt was probably approaching. 

He stepped outside and looked around: wherever he turned, he was surrounded by the stunning night view of Tokyo. 

Since they were on the rooftop, the wind was quite strong. The snow had stopped falling but he couldn’t help but shiver in his winter jacket. The sky had cleared up a bit, and strangely enough a few stars were visible during that winter night. 

Right in front of the bright Tokyo Tower in the background, there was a man. Hajime could only see his silhouette because he was looking towards the city. 

Someone from the staff nodded in acknowledgment, so he walked towards the mysterious person: he was undoubtedly a man—which was a pleasant surprise after all—and he was wearing a long, beige coat that elegantly fell over his tall frame. He couldn’t see much more because it was dark, but the sight was surely beautiful. The contrast made it seem like he was shining like one of the stars in the sky.

Hajime approached him and stopped at the last small step, his heart beating a bit faster than usual. 

“Uhm, hello there. Are you perhaps… hungry?” Hajime asked, straight to the point.

“Mm.” The other seemed to mumble affirmatively. Hajime figured it was probably part of the script for him not to turn around until a certain point.

“Okay then. What’s your favorite food?” He asked, holding his breath in anticipation.

“I love milk bread.” He replied. 

Then, as if in slow motion, the other turned towards him, his hair ruffled by the wind and mouth curved in a smile that froze as soon as his eyes landed on the person in front of him.

And Hajime couldn’t believe it. 

It had to be some kind of sick joke. 

He blinked repeatedly, as if he was having a hallucination. And as much as he couldn’t deny the fact that the other looked infuriatingly dazzling, literally a star among the stars, in front of him was literally the last person he wished to be paired with in this kind of reality show. 

He realized he had actually never even imagined that being paired with _him_ could have been a possibility.

Because his husband-to-be was no other than Oikawa Tooru.

  
  
  


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Tooru had been on the sky deck for at least one hour now; his hands were freezing and he wondered how longer he had to wait for his partner to come and get him. At least it had stopped snowing.

He was nervous. 

He was a control freak after all, so the fact that this show was a total mystery made him uncomfortable and anxious. He had even tried to use his charm to have the PD give him some hints at least, but his lips were absolutely sealed. 

He had a bad feeling, and his sixth sense was right the 99% of the time.

He was making small talk with Makki when they noticed that the members of the staff around them were squirming, so he imagined the time had finally come. 

A woman approached him and told him to keep facing the Tokyo Tower until—upon hearing his partner’s question—he had at last disclosed his favorite food. 

Makki stepped back after that, wishing him good luck and joining the PD on the sideline. Tooru could see he was enjoying this way too much. 

Cameras around him were rolling and everyone seemed quite excited now. He knew he had to be ready in case his partner turned out to be someone he didn’t like, so he switched his actor mode on. 

It was quiet but paradoxically extremely noisy at the same time: the wind was blowing loudly but somehow Tooru’ senses were completely focused on the clicking sound of shoes on the hard concrete, until it came to a stop close behind him.

When the deep, male voice asked him if he was hungry, Tooru shivered. He felt like he had heard that voice before, and a strange feeling settled in his heart. At that moment though, he couldn’t associate it to a face and that made him even more curious, but most of all excited that his partner was a man.

Nothing, though, could prepare him for the sight he found in front of him when he turned around after saying the words “milk bread”.

 _”Oh no. No no no no. Is this real life?”_ He thought.

Iwaizumi Hajime.

He had to marry Iwaizumi Hajime and live with him for at least 3 months. 

That couldn’t be true. They were surely going to murder each other. 

Iwaizumi’s flabbergasted expression was probably mirroring his own and it told him that, at that very moment, the other was thinking exactly the same thing.

There was absolutely _no way_ this was going to work.

“You are my husband???” Iwaizumi asked him in pure shock, as if he was fervently wishing and pleading for him to deny it. 

With his eyes, Oikawa quickly searched for Makki among the staff members. And when he found him, he saw that that fucker was actually laughing his ass off. 

“Apparently, I am.” He replied, making his way towards the other man. He knew they both couldn’t fuck up the first shooting day, so he smiled at the best of his acting skills. “Iwa-chan, I would have _never_ thought that we were going to meet again, especially like this.” 

Oikawa secretly smiled at the fact that the other couldn’t call him with those awful, rude nicknames on national television. It was a win for him. 

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened and for a fraction of second, and as if he had actually read his thoughts, he glared at him; which left the actor speechless for a moment because it reminded him of the fact that since the first time they met, Iwaizumi had managed to read him better than anyone else.

It was obvious that the two of them were quickly wondering how to react to that. It wasn’t that they could get away from this: the fees to withdraw from the show were too expensive. 

But how could they pretend they didn’t want to tear each other’s head off the whole time? It was a real dilemma. 

“Neither did I, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi replied.

No honorifics, he noticed in surprise. 

Nonetheless, it could be interesting to test the other’s patience to its very limits. Tooru’s lips quirked up in an evil smile at the thought.

“So, shall we go buy some milk bread?” Iwa offered, trying his best to hide a grimace. He probably had made up his mind too, so this was going to be an interesting challenge.

“Sure, let’s go.”

  
  
  


───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

  
  
  


“Your fake husband is Oikawa Tooru??” Matsukawa asked loudly, laughing his ass off and almost spitting his beer on Hajime’s bed, which made the house owner regret having called him to help him packing.

“I mean, does it make sense that someone’s favorite food is milk bread??” Hajime asked, purposely ignoring his teammate and best friend, as he was sitting on the cold floor of his bedroom in front of his opened suitcase with clothes scattered all around him. “It’s not like he’s a child, he’s like 26 years old.” 

“If you’re asking me, I think that it’s part of his charm.” Matsukawa replied with an amused smile while sitting on Hajime’s bed. 

“Tsk, what charm? There’s nothing charming about that pompous asshole.” He sighed heavily, still in a daze after the shock of the previous day, when he found out that the person he’s going to be partnered with was Oikawa Tooru.

He had woken up that morning hoping it was just a nightmare, a joke that only someone with a poor sense of irony would find funny.

And needless to say, his best friend seemed to find it extremely funny. 

“Sure, if you are blind.” Matsukawa rolled his eyes at his friend’s statement. Because no one with a functioning pair of eyes could deny Oikawa Tooru was extremely charming. 

“Then you do this damn show!” Hajime growled in frustration, turning back to glare at his friend.

“I wouldn’t have complained.” Issei shrugged.

“Shouldn’t you at least pretend to feel sorry for me?” Hajime scowled, angrily throwing his underwear inside the suitcase, uncaring of the mess.

“Why should I? This is one of the most amusing things I’ve had the luck to witness in my whole life!” Matsukawa replied.

“It’s really heartwarming to see that the fact that your best friend is going to be stuck for-god-knows-how-long with the person he despises the most in the world is so enjoyable for you. Friend of the year, really.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Uh, I thought the person you despised the most in the world was—” Issei was interrupted by a pillow harshly colliding with his face.

“Don’t.” Hajime said, busying himself by grabbing a sweater and messily folding it. A minute of silence followed before Issei decided it was safe to talk again.

“Honestly, I don’t think you hate Oikawa as you’d like me to believe.” 

“He’s a spoiled child, Matsukawa. Narcissistic to a laughable level, and he thinks the world revolves around him. He’s vain, has no personality.”

“Wow, that’s pretty harsh, man. You met him only once!” Matsukawa countered, taken aback by his friend’s uncharacteristically strict judgement. 

“Yeah, and I truly wished that was our unfortunate first and last meeting.” He sighed.

“Look, I don’t doubt that the guy might be pompous and hyper-aware of his extremely good looks,” Hajime snorted at that. “But as much as this whole situation amuses me, it’s not like you to judge someone so superficially. You worked with him for what, a few hours? You know better than anyone else that most of the time there’s a reason behind a person’s behavior. Also, the chemistry the two of you had in that photoshoot was a force to be reckoned with. Who knows, maybe you just have to know each other a bit better.”

Hajime looked down, feeling a bit guilty after hearing his friend’s words. Of course he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of showing it to him.

“I don’t feel the need to. I’ve never met someone who pisses me off as much as he does. He makes me want to tie him up to a chair and gag him so that he can’t annoy me with his stupid voic-” he stopped as he saw the smug grin on his Matsukawa’s face. 

“Mmh, kinky. I heard that hate sex is—”

Another pillow was thrown his way before he could finish his sentence, but this time he swiftly dodged it, making it collide with the abat-jour on the bedside table and sending both objects on the floor. His grin widened as he saw Iwaizumi’s ears flushing red.

“Did you come here to help or to aggravate me to death?” Hajime scowled, his tone exasperated. The worst thing was that he could see it clearly in his mind, the vivid scene of a flushed Oikawa Tooru tied to a chair with his mouth gagged, eyes wet with tears. The image gave him some kind of satisfaction he wasn’t ready to face yet.

He slapped his own face between both of his hands to wake up from that daydream, but he could feel his body tingling uncomfortably.

Matsukawa was quite proud of the results of his teasing.

“I’m sure the two of you will get along exceptionally well. And oh, if you really aren’t interested in him, I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better myself.” He winked.

Hajime froze at that, unsure if his friend was serious or not about his last statement. He felt something like a squeeze in his chest but he dismissed it quickly.

“Do whatever you want, but after this damn show will be over. I don’t want to get involved in any scandals, I just want to live quietly.” He said, focusing on folding his favorite gray godzilla hoodie and carefully placing it inside the suitcase. It was the only neatly folded thing in that mess. 

“Sure, whatever you say.” Matsukawa replied. “Who’s coming to the wedding by the way? I’m your best man, right?” 

“I asked Koutaro, Morisuke, Atsumu and Kentarou. Tobio told me he couldn’t come, he was a bit awkward. I don’t know though, I probably shouldn’t have a best man infatuated with my future husband.”

“ _My future husband,_ uh? Someone seems quite possessive already for claiming to hate said future husband.”

“I’m just humoring you because you’re so predictable.” He rolled his eyes. “There’s no way something besides a strictly professional relationship will happen between the two of us. Once the cameras will turn off, we’ll go to our rooms and mind our own business. There’s no compatibility between the two of us, this show will be an absolute fiasco. I just hope the agency won’t blame me for it.”

“We’ll see, Hajime. We’ll see.” 

  
  


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Meiji Shrine (Tokyo), January 2022

  
  
  


Tooru was biting his lips anxiously as the stylists were helping him to wear his _montsuki_ kimono for the wedding. They were already at the Meiji Shrine, where the traditional ceremony was going to take place.

He shouldn’t be that nervous. In the end, nothing of this was real. 

But it surely _felt_ real.

Now he kind of had an idea of how young fellows felt during the Edo period when their parents decided to sell them away in arranged marriages.

He had spent the past week packing his things, since they were going to move to their new house right after the wedding. The production had sent a moving company to pick up his five luggages earlier that morning. 

Makki had literally given him no peace, teasing him endlessly about the fact that it was fate that he had been casted on this show with Iwaizumi, utterly convinced that it was going to be a huge hit all around the world.

He also felt some kind of responsibility, since this was the first time after a long time that a same-sex union ceremony was going to take place in a famous, traditional place as the Meiji Shrine. Apparently, the first and last gay wedding celebrated in a shrine had been in 1999, and after that somehow it had never happened again. So he wondered how the production team managed to strike a deal and how much they paid for it, but he hoped this could be a sort of starting point for Japan. Not everyone was going to appreciate it though, he was aware of that. Both Irihata and Makki had advised him to not look much at online comments, but Oikawa decided he wasn’t going to be swayed by hurtful, homophobic comments. Being a famous actor, unfortunately he was already used to being criticized even for breathing in the wrong way. And even though he had to do this with Iwaizumi, he was serious about trying to sensibilize people about the LGBTQ+ rights.

For this ceremony to be held as accurately as possible, the production team had sent him and Iwaizumi a 20 minutes orientation video, which included instructions on the various steps of the traditional wedding, including how to bow. They both had to practice to bow with a 90 degree angle just like the shrine personnel, and for the sake of tradition, Tooru hoped that they were going to be in sync.

These kinds of ceremonies were very private, so they could invite their closest friends. Makki, Tetsurou, Yahaba and Sugawara were going to come to the ceremony for Tooru. He didn’t know about Iwaizumi’s list.

“Okay, it’s all done.” The stylist said. 

Tooru looked at himself in the long mirror and his eyes widened a bit: his kimono was beautiful. The _haori_ was of a teal color with golden patterns that went well with the golden _haori himo_ around his waist, while the _hakama_ was dark navy. His makeup was natural: his eyeshadow was the same color as the haori, a light teal blended with a touch of gleam sparkly gold at the corner of his eyes. His lipstick was of a sober rose matte, with a touch of gloss to make it shinier and for his lips not to be too dry. 

He had to give it to the stylists, they knew what they were doing.

“Oikawa-san, you are gorgeous!” The stylist said, in awe.

“Thank you, Mika-chan. It’s all thanks to you guys!” He replied with a wink. Both of the stylists blushed appreciatively at that, squealing a bit. After all, Oikawa was well known to be a flatterer.

They then led him to the door of the waiting room, cameras already rolling and everyone ready to go out. They just needed confirmation that Iwaizumi was ready too. 

Sooner than he expected, a security guard nodded and gestured to them to go. 

The ceremony started with Tooru being escorted outside; majestic, old trees were hovering him in the yard outside the shrine where the warm sun of a winter morning was shining upon the cloudless sky. 

Leading in front of him were two priestesses, a priest and a musician, while behind him another priestess was holding a red umbrella over his head.

When they arrived in front of the shrine the group diverged towards the right, and when the last priestess in front of him turned, she unveiled Iwaizumi right in front of him, waiting to join him. 

Oikawa almost gaped when he saw him. 

His kimono wasn’t as elaborate as his own, it was one of the most traditional ones: a black _haori_ with a white _haori himo_ and a grey _hakama._

The point was that as simple as it was, it fit him amazingly. He had noticed it almost three years earlier too when they had the photoshoot together, but it seemed like Iwaizumi could make simple clothes look effortlessly good.

They were shamelessly staring at each other from head to toe, taking in the other’s appearance appreciatively against their own will. Their gaze landed on each other’s face at the same time, their eyes meeting suddenly and firmly, enough for a flush to creep up Tooru’s face and Iwaizumi’s neck. That made them turn around stubbornly, finally ready to follow the procession inside the temple.

At the rear of the shrine were his friends and some people he recognized as Iwaizumi’s teammates. Somehow they were all wearing the same, dumbstruck expression: their eyes going back and forth between him and his husband-to-be. Tetsurou and Makki were smirking, and so was the curly raven on Iwaizumi’s side. He wished he could throw something at them.

“There’s nothing I would like more than to wipe those smirks away from their faces.” Iwa mumbled, not really expecting a reply.

Tooru looked at him in surprise and couldn’t help the small grin that appeared on his face, because it seemed that at least about some things they could agree after all. 

“I’ve just thought the same thing, Iwa-chan. We should plot our revenge.” He whispered back, a charming smile on his face that promised hell to those who have wronged him.

“Mmm, I strangely like the way it sounds.” Iwa hummed in agreement, ignoring the fact that he had been called _Iwa-chan_ once again. 

And there was something in the way Iwaizumi replied, low and deep, that made heat pool in Tooru’s belly. His eyes slightly widened and he cursed his own body.

They finally reached the middle of the room in front of the ceremonial wedding altar: food offerings and the wedding rings were placed on it. The priest was standing at the right of the altar, while the shrine maiden at the left. 

Tooru was extremely thankful that the production team hadn’t asked them to write down the vows; since they can’t really stand each other, he doubted that any of them would have been able to read them outloud without visibly cringing and make people question their truthfulness from that very first moment.

The ceremony seemed to be faithful to the tradition as the priest started by purifying them and all the guests. After that, side by side, Tooru and Hajime each offered the deity a tamagushi—a branch of a sacred tree decorated with cotton strips—and bowed down twice as per tradition.

“Let’s proceed with the exchange of the cups.” The priest announced.

The cup exchange— _sankon-no-gi_ —was considered the core of the shinto wedding. 

The priest went in front of the couple holding a tray with three sake cups of different sizes: small, medium and large. Traditionally, the bride and the groom had to drink sake three times each from each cup, for a total of nine sips each. The rite symbolized the _for better or for worse, in sickness and in health_. 

Iwaizumi was offered the small cup and the shrine maiden poured a small amount of sake on it. He drank it in three sips and the maiden refilled the same cup and gave it to Tooru, who blushed slightly and drank three sips too. 

The next cup—the medium one—was given to Tooru first then to Iwaizumi; while the last, big one was given again to Iwaizumi first, then to Tooru. 

The actor noticed Iwaizumi’s ears were becoming red, so he guessed the other wasn’t that good with alcohol. 

When they finished the cup exchange ritual, for the first time during the ceremony the two of them had to face each other for the exchange of the rings. 

A ritual prayer from the priest accompanied the act, announcing the marriage to the deities, invoking the gods Izanagi and Izanami for a harmonious balance within the marriage. 

Iwaizumi took one of the silver rings and slid it on Tooru’s finger with shaky hands. His eyes were on their hands, and the actor noticed how they lingered on his slender, long fingers. 

It seemed like what he was doing required utmost care and focus, but as he looked up at him, something in his eyes made Tooru’s heart beat erratically in his chest. He felt his cheeks heating up, and he hoped that if anyone were to notice, they’d blame it on the alcohol. 

Because it felt too intimate, the way Iwaizumi was looking at him. 

Tooru glanced at the remaining wedding band and hoped they were going to get over with this wedding ceremony as soon as possible. 

He couldn’t wait to get home and put some comfortable clothes on, but he suddenly remembered that after this they were going to move into their new house and that he had no idea about how it was going to be, and he felt a sudden wave of anxiety choking him. 

Somehow, Iwaizumi looked alarmed; his hands instinctively held Tooru’s tightly, as if he was trying to help him relax. And as much as the actor would have liked to deny it, he felt the tension on his shoulders easing a bit.

Iwa was still facing him but his eyes flickered to his side, to remind Tooru that they were literally surrounded by cameras.

That seemed to make him aware of his surroundings: he slightly cleared his throat and gave his best acting smile, taking the remaining ring and sliding it way too quickly on Iwaizumi’s finger.

Iwaizumi’s expression suddenly hardened, his jaw was clenching as if he was holding back with all his might from saying something, and Tooru was speechless as he silently wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Was the guy bipolar?

That reminded him that Iwa wasn’t on his side and that, as always, he had to look out for himself. The brief, warm light he felt wasn’t real and it wasn’t to make him feel better, but it was just to prevent him from blowing up the show. 

And not too strangely, that made him want to do exactly that: to make him regret having enrolled in this reality show, to show him just how merciless the celebrity life he looked down on was. 

What was his purpose after all? Tooru really couldn’t understand what the other wanted.

As the ceremony was finally over, the two greeted the guests together and took some pictures in front of the shrine with their guests and on the rickshaw waiting for them there. 

Iwaizumi introduced him to his friends, and Tooru breathed in relief as he noticed that Tobio-chan wasn’t there. He probably wasn’t that close with Iwa? 

“Take good care of Tooru, Iwaizumi-san.” Makki winked. Tooru wanted to smack him but he couldn’t do anything in front of the cameras, so he simply gave him the deadly smile the other knew far too well. 

A member of the staff finally approached them and gave them a letter. Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi and the other gestured to him to open it. 

“I’ll leave you the honor! I got the first mission card when I came to find you the other day.” He said. 

Tooru forced back a glare and started to read the card out loud, with Iwaizumi right beside him. 

**Mission 2:**

_Congratulations on your marriage!_

_Change into comfortable clothes and meet in front of the shrine in 30 minutes: you’ll find a car waiting for you. Play rock, paper, scissors to decide who will be the driver between the two of you and follow the gps to your newlyweds nest. Once there, discover the beauty of your new house together._

  
  


The two of them greeted their guests one last time and hurried to change, not so thrilled about the amount of time they’ll have to spend together from now on. 

  
  


──────────

  
  


Iwaizumi was already in front of the car when he arrived. 

“Always late.” He scoffed. 

Tooru looked at his watch and saw that he was exactly two minutes late.  
  
“Don’t be grumpy, Iwa-chan. I’m not even that late.” He smiled, eyes almost twitching in annoyance and hoping the cameras weren’t going to focus on his clenched hand. 

He lifted said hand as to tell the other that it was time to play, a challenging look in his eyes that brought the competitiveness out of his opponent too, as if they were going to duel to death instead of playing rock, paper, scissors. 

The staff members around them couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics; even at that moment it seemed like they were going to make a great couple. 

In the end Tooru lost. He sulkily hopped on the passenger seat and crossed his arms. 

“You have to film with the camera inside the car for at least 10 minutes, then you can turn it off for the rest of the trip.” A man from the staff explained before Iwaizumi could make his way towards the driver seat.

He arrived just a few seconds later, hastily discarding his coat on the back seats and checking the gps. 

“Wow, it seems like the house is in Kamakura.”

“Really? It’s quite far from here, one hour drive. I wonder how the house is gonna be.” Oikawa pondered out loud.

In the previous seasons of the reality show, the houses of the other couples were on a low budget, so he was expecting something similar. 

As he turned towards Iwaizumi to say something, he noticed he was wearing a simple green polo and a pair of jeans: the short sleeves of the polo deliciously hugged his biceps and Tooru watched mesmerized as that left arm stretched behind his headrest. The proximity to his neck made him shiver.

Tooru looked to his right just to find Iwaizumi’s face close to his. His breath hitched and Iwa’s eyes widened slightly. 

“You should put your seatbelt on.” The other told him. 

Oikawa was startled and he hurriedly turned the other way, pretending to look for the seatbelt while he was actually trying to calm his racing heart. 

Damn Iwaizumi and his freaking arms. 

“Try to arrive at our destination safely. You probably drive as grumpily as you speak.” He blurted out, trying to save his face. 

Iwaizumi just scoffed, and 5 minutes later Tooru had to admit that the other was a very good driver. 

He knew that they couldn’t really stay in silence, so he decided to try to make conversation. 

“Who taught you how to drive?” He asked. Iwaizumi glanced at him, trying to figure out if the other was going to complain about his driving style or if it was just a simple question. 

“My mother did.” He replied. “We used to go on the gravel road behind our house and practice there. Why do you ask?”

“Because you don’t drive that badly after all.” Tooru replied. 

“Would it kill you to say that I drive really well instead?” Iwa laughed in disbelief. 

“A gravel road, uh? This explains how light it feels.” He mumbled.

“Mm?”

“Nothing, never mind. Are you an only child, Iwa-chan?”

“Yes. What about you?”

“I have an older sister. We are really close.” 

The mood was tense, and Tooru felt like he was the only one who was trying to make some small talk. Iwaizumi probably sensed his stiffness, because he glanced at him like he was thinking hard about something to ask him.

“So, uhm. What do you do in your free time?” he asked, managing a small smile.

Well, at least he was trying too. 

“I like to watch movies and to work out.” Tooru replied, used to these kinds of questions. His reply seemed to take Iwaizumi by surprise, because he suddenly seemed a bit more interested. 

“Ah yeah? What kind of workout?” he asked. 

“I go to the gym and occasionally to the swimming pool. What, you thought that I could keep a body like this without doing anything?” he smirked.

“You didn’t strike me for someone who likes to work out, that’s all.” He stated, simply. His eyes were unwavering on the road.

“Maybe you should work on these prejudices of yours, Iwa-chan. It’s not the first time you have a distorted impression of me.” 

Iwaizumi seemed to freeze a bit at that, not expecting such a statement while cameras were rolling. 

“Ah, I guess now that we are married I’ll get to see if mine are really prejudices or not.” He laughed, seemingly amused. 

Oikawa looked at his watch and shut the cameras off after that. There were a few moments of silence after that, just the noise of the engine could be heard. 

“Look, I don’t know what’s your purpose for doing this show, but we probably agree for once that none of us expected or wanted to be paired up together.” 

Iwaizumi glanced at him, but kept his eyes on the road.

“So we should set some rules before this situation gets out of hands and we ruin each other’s reputation or career, since we’ll be living together for a long time.”

“I’m listening.”

“Apparently there will just be the two of us in the house: it’s full of cameras, so there’s no need for the staff to be there unless we have other schedules. When the cameras stop rolling, we go our own way. No trespassing in each other’s room or more interactions than the ones they ask us for.”

“Call. I have no objections to that.”

“Good. When we’re filming though, you have to do your best.”

“What do you mean?” Hajime asked. It was a given that he was going to work hard, so he didn’t appreciate the fact that Oikawa was telling him how he was supposed to behave while working.

“We have to act like we are actually interested in each other.”

“I don’t know how to act. That’s your thing, Shittykawa.”

“You’ll learn to. Remember that our careers are at stake here.”

“I don’t care about what people think of me and I hate when people wear a mask, because I can’t trust them.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Iwa-chan. I’m not telling you to like me nor to trust me. We don’t need things like that. I just want to come out from this show unscathed. And if you’re doing this, I presume there’s something important at stake for you too.” 

Iwaizumi’s fingers were gripping the wheel tightly. He didn’t have any intentions to get chummy with Oikawa to begin with, but the way the other talked—so calculative, authoritative and detached—didn’t sit well with him.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I should do, I was already going to work hard in my own way.” He said, his tone clearly saying that the conversation was over. 

The rest of the drive went by slowly and in a tense mood; Oikawa took out his earphones and looked out of the window while humming to some songs, uncaring about the fact that he was being absolutely annoying. 

Hajime turned up the volume of the radio to at least cover Oikawa’s sounds. It was no secret that the volleyball player was extremely pissed off; his face said it all, but Oikawa couldn’t really bring himself to care.

The car finally stopped in front of a gate. Hajime rummaged a bit and found what seemed a small, automatic key: he pressed it tentatively and the gate opened.

He drove in and followed the path to the garage, which was probably left open for them to find it easily. 

When he finally shut the engine off, none of them moved for a few moments: they were both aware of the fact that once they were going to step outside of the car, everything was going to change. 

Meanwhile, the garage was already automatically closing behind them. The security of the house seemed impeccable.

Hajime tried to focus on his breathing in silence, not wanting Oikawa to bother him more than he had already done during their one hour trip. 

The other finally put those cursed earphones away and checked his watch. He didn’t seem nervous, or maybe he was just a good actor after all. 

“It’s 1pm, so we’re gonna be filmed for 4 more hours today. Do your best, _hubby_.” he said, smirking and leaving an equally flustered and exasperated Iwaizumi inside the car. 

After sighing heavily, Hajime got out of the car.

Mindful of the cameras, Oikawa waited for him and then walked towards a door at the side of the room. They went in and climbed the elegant stairs until they reached a luminous room with glass walls all across it, facing a magnificent japanese garden. It felt peaceful and breath-taking at the same time. Hajime noticed that it was possible to use the sliding shōji screens to ensure some privacy and shadow when needed.

“Wow.” they both exclaimed at the same time.

Iwaizumi was a simple guy in everything he did. He didn’t care about fame or money; his apartment was a modest one, with average furniture and enough space to be comfortable by himself. 

Houses like this one, he had only seen them in pictures or magazines, but he was sure Oikawa had seen his fair share of luxe, so he was surprised by his seemingly honest reaction. 

“What?” Oikawa asked him, noticing the other was staring.

“I thought you probably lived in a place as luxurious as this one.” He replied, bluntly. 

“Do you have any idea of how much a house like this might cost, volleyball gorilla?” Oikawa sassed.

“Well, sorry for assuming you are rich.” Iwa rolled his eyes. 

“I’m rich, but not _that_ rich yet. And it’s not like you’re not wealthy yourself.” 

“Whatever, I don’t care about these things. My house simply needs to be comfortable.” He stated. “But I really appreciate the efforts the staff put into this!” He quickly added, worried his statement might be misunderstood. 

Oikawa scoffed at that, shaking his head and going towards the stairs that led to the upper floors. 

“Let’s start the house tour from the upper floor.” He said, leaving Hajime no other choice but to follow his lead. 

Like the mission card said, they toured the house together, in a daze and stunned about everything they saw. After a first look, it was clear that the house brilliantly blended traditional and modern Japanese architecture together. 

On the second floor were the kitchen and a beautiful dining room with glass walls all across it that showed the breathtaking view of the sea and the Mt. Fuji in the background, and also a bathroom with a bath beneath a picture window. 

There was even a pool on the rooftop for fuck’s sake!

When they got back on the ground floor, beside the living room they saw when they arrived there was an indoor pool with a gym annexed, a luxurious bathroom and a laundry room. 

Their reactions all through the house tour were effortlessly honest at least.

Something was missing though. 

_“Ahah, it can’t be…”_ They both thought, a sudden bad feeling in their gut.

As they opened the door of the _last_ room of the house they had to see, they were absolutely speechless and downright horrified. 

All of their things were there, inside the huge bedroom with _one_ king-size bed in the middle. 

And their worst nightmare came true: it was _their_ bedroom. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> First of all, I would like to thank everyone who read and/or interacted with this fic! Your comments really warmed my heart and motivated me to write! I hope you enjoyed this chapter too and that you'll let me know what you think about it!
> 
> Also, a question: do you prefer the chapters to keep being around 10k words or shorter (around 5k words)?  
> Let me know in the comments, please! 
> 
> Here's the Pinterest [board](https://www.pinterest.it/marti_803/iwaoi-falling-like-the-stars-moodboard/chapter-2/) for this chapter!


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